The Standard Suite
by DK2005
Summary: Chandler/Kent. The core team are working on a case off site. Budget cuts meant limited options of accommodation – with questionable facilities. In Kent's case, especially, he didn't even have a half-decent wall. WARNINGS: Slash, OOCness, coarse language. DISCLAIMER: Whitechapel and all its characters belong to ITV. I'm just having some sordid fun with them.


**THE STANDARD SUITE**

_A Whitechapel Fanfiction._

_Pairing: Chandler/Kent_

_Warnings: Slash, coarse language, random OOCness, masturbation, sexual fantasy, PWP_

_Rating: R/M+_

_Disclaimer: Whitechapel and all its characters are property of ITV. I'm just making them do sordid things._

_Background: The core team are working on a case just outside London. Budget cuts meant limited options of accommodation – with questionable facilities._

Emerson Kent sighed the moment he walked into the cubicle resembling a hotel room. Maybe he was being dramatic, but this was hardly what you'd call a _standard suite_.

First, there was a smell, it wasn't rancid or anything, but he could tell it was a mix of some cheap air freshener mixed with something else to mask an even worse odour. The walls were all shades of cack, the carpet dingy, and the furniture miniscule. There was a TV set from the 1980s and a remote that looked like it was gagging for retirement.

_Below_ Standard Suite, more like. At this rate, it looked like the ensuite was the only thing that justified its hotel room status.

At least he wasn't the only one who had to put up with it, he was sure the rest of the team would be thinking the exact same thing.

Dropping his overnight bag on the off-white cover (he shuddered to think that once upon a time that bed cover used to be about ten shades whiter), Kent sighed.

At least he only had to stay here two nights, maybe even sooner if the case worked out early.

Kent sat down with a huff, and the bed made a protesting noise, to which he cringed abit. Reaching out for his bag, he pulled out some random bits and changed into something a bit more comfortable.

Seriously, the only reason he'd agreed to this was the fact that the order came from _him_.

His boss, DI Joseph Chandler, who's perfect in every way and always stirs up something obscene inside him.

_He_ was the only reason he'd stay in this trainwreck of a hotel.

Hell, he'd walk through the gates of hell if Chandler said so.

Since he first started at the headquarters, Kent had been nothing short of intrigued. Everything about him made him curious, motivated, and all things he'd never felt before.

While more than half the team made fun of his uptight persona, Kent found him fascinating. Before he knew it, he'd go out of his way to support investigations in every way, work on case files rather ambitiously, anything to impress him.

A simple "good work" or "thank you" from Chandler's mouth would make something melt inside him.

And made him want to please him even more.

_Or sometimes please himself_.

Kent wondered which room his DI would be in. He knew that the team members were booked in random rooms and floors for obvious reasons. He did notice at one point that DC Riley was at the end of the corridor one floor below him, but the rest were all scattered around.

Not that he'd care to check. Which was probably not the best decision on the OHS-side, but at the moment he really just wanted the night to end, so he didn't have to spend too much time at this dreadful _standard suite_. At least not awake anyway.

Then he suddenly wondered if his elegant, controlling, uptight, clean-freak boss would've booked himself into one of the better rooms. A _real_ suite.

Or even so, the room would be far from satisfactory. And knowing Chandler, he wouldn't be able to sleep in a room with the cleanliness (or maybe even arrangements) so below his standards.

He'd be uncomfortable.

_Uncomfortable._

A slight smirk unconsciously formed on Kent's face.

Oh, how he'd love to see that sight. The image of his boss being uncomfortable and fussing about in his room…not having complete control…..

_Yeah, that'd teach him for…_

Kent looked down and drew a frustrated sigh. Just the thought of his DI in that state was enough to get him excited.

_Sir…_

This was getting out of hand, no pun intended.

He sighed, lied down and the bed creaked some more.

Bloody hell, this was uncomfortable. And he wasn't even referring to the mattress.

Kent turned sideways, and old wallpaper stared back at him. It wasn't very late, but the area was quiet, almost too quiet for a small hotel.

Fuck it, he'd sleep on it and sort it out in the morning.

Then he heard something.

A shuffling noise, then a soft creak.

Shit, the walls were so thin he could hear what was going on in the next room.

Kent sighed in added frustration.

This was going to be one hell of a long night.

There was more shuffling, things being moved around…and all of a sudden another loud creak.

Like something heavy just hit an old mattress.

And then something completely_ different_.

"Hhhh…" a low, soft moan, not quite clear if it was a man or a woman's.

Then a long breath.

Kent jerked awake.

What was _that_?

Oh great, this is just _perfect_.

A horny couple right next door.

He folded his pillow around his head, until he stopped short because of the unpleasant smell of the pillowcase – like old linen, washed in low-grade, rubber-smelling detergent.

_Ugh._

He heard another strangled breath, and he was reminded of his own state.

Horny as _hell_.

This was so typical. His mind trailed back to those nights where he'd indulged himself in his own bedroom (in his much more comfortable bed, mind) to images of his DI.

His disturbingly attractive DI Chandler with his suit clinging to his perfect figure, his perfectly shaped hair, his calm blue eyes, his icy exterior, his passion for the job…his attention to his staff, to _him_…

Now Kent was properly hard.

The almost negligible discomfort he felt before has now grown into a full- blown problem. He decided to take off his sleep shirt and just leave his trackies on.

Meanwhile, there were ragged breaths emerging from next door, and another sound brushing against a mattress followed.

Kent slipped himself under the covers, relishing in the fact that he was now somewhat hidden, him and his not-so-little problem…

He shut his eyes tight and suddenly the lustful noises from the other side of the wall turned into something else.

Images of his DI on the creaking mattress, his arms around him, his weight pressing down on him, his erection sliding up against him…

Kent drew a gasping breath as he couldn't hold it anymore, and his hand slipped inside his pants, finding his engorged flesh, so so sensitive…

"Ahhh…" a low groan – although vague, this time Kent concluded it belonged to a man. He hadn't heard a feminine counterpart, hell, maybe it was a gay couple, whatever, not his problem…

He had enough problem to take care of right now.

Kent realised how slightly twisted and screwed up this was – alone in a dingy hotel room, playing with himself while listening to the couple next door going at it, imagining it was him and his boss.

His aching erection twitched in his hand, and he tightened his grip – as another image of his delectable superior crept up in his brain.

Kent thought of Chandler, his head was full of him now - and made up an ideal situation where he would have his hot, uptight boss all up against him, his strong hands wrapped around his cock.

There was another enticing thought. He wondered how his DI would handle his most private part…..knowing him…

"Ugh…"

Kent was so deep in his fantasies now that he didn't realise he'd moaned out loud, along with his busy neighbour. His hand moved to a comfortable rhythm, imagining it to be his DI's, and every sound he heard from next door was his.

The mattress started to creak, and his neighbour's too, followed by a rhythmic pant – the sound of his own wet flesh rubbed up and down joined in the truly lewd scene.

Another loud creak, and a soft thud against the wall. Kent didn't even know whether it came from his own moving mattress or the next door guest's.

Kent was panting now, short breaths drawn raggedly, his heartbeat thumping in his ears, his brain spewing out deviant visions of his DI. Then his hands moved up and down faster, masturbating himself into ecstasy, past every explicit images he had of his DI…..his frustratingly attractive DI Joseph Chandler…

His blonde hair, sweaty, sticking on his forehead, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned, his belt buckle undone, his expensive trousers pulled down, ready to take Kent, rough but steady, his comforting hand working his cock in a delicate rhythm, but with enough force to bring him closer to the edge…

_Oh, fuck, so good…so good…_

Slick warm precum seeped through his fingers, meeting his sweaty palm, staining the already discoloured sheet.

_More, he wanted more_…

Joe Chandler breathing hard against his neck, telling him to come all over his hands, his other hand gripping him tight…..his hot, hard erection sliding beside him…

_So close now…_

"Ohhh…" another groan from next door, this time louder than before and then suddenly a thud, the sound of a heavy object hitting the floor next door. The clinking tone that followed suggested it was something porcelain, but it wasn't a breaking sound.

They were so into it they'd probably damage all –or whatever was left of – the furniture next door.

Kent squeezed his eyes tighter, the way his hand did on his cock.

"Ohhhhh…Joe…" Kent's undignified cry was muffled against the pillow, but it was like a cue to climax for his whole body nonetheless.

As he hissed his DI's name again, Kent visualised himself climaxing with him, and the heat of this thought shot straight between his legs.

Oh fuck, _that did it_. One slippery stroke was all he needed, his cock tensed before coming hard and messy into his hands, his raw protein squirting everywhere.

Kent lied still for what felt like hours, steadying his panting breaths, the lustful images of his DI still lingering in his head, along with the pungent smell of his own essence.

That was…fucking brilliant. Kent couldn't believe that he actually thought that when the reality of the situation was far more sleazy than his own glorified fantasy.

_Joe…Sir…look what you fucking do to me…_

And just like that, Kent fell asleep while half his brain was still cursing his boss, the source of all his sexual frustrations.

* * *

The moment Joseph Chandler opened his eyes, the first thing that hit him was the musty smell of his small hotel room.

And how he was glad he'd only need to stay there one more night, if that.

Last night was quite frustrating, he couldn't sleep for what felt like ages. He tried going through some pesky paperwork to do with the investigation, but nothing got done.

He was more than a little ashamed to admit that it turned out that all he needed was a good old wank.

Secretly, he felt a certain satisfaction of doing something so messy in a place where he might never see again. Knowing his hygiene standards, he wouldn't have done it back at his own place, save for during showers.

Leaving his bed, Chandler's foot brushed something cold on the floor. He totally forgot that he knocked his tea mug off the bedside table last night…..his private session got a bit, overenthusiastic, to say the least.

Being more than a little aware that the walls weren't exactly soundproof, he hoped he didn't wake anyone up with the noise, no matter what it was.

A refreshing shower and a quick dress-up later, Chandler decided to exit his room early and check on his team. In his head, he was already planning the investigative journey for the day.

The door closed with a soft click, and another one flung open next to him, revealing a familiar figure.

"Oh, morning, Kent. I didn't realise you were right next door!"

His young DC stopped short, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and disorientation.

"Sir?"

Chandler thought about the possibility of Kent hearing anything suspicious last night. But he dismissed it, thinking the chances were pretty slim.

"Did you sleep well?" he started.

"Erm…yeah…"

Good. Didn't seem like he did.

"Everything alright, Kent? You look like you'd seen a ghost."

Poor little thing, Chandler thought, wouldn't be surprised if he was up all night, it was hardly what you'd call a _standard suite_.


End file.
